Today’s letter of the day is – O.
As in, Oh. Em. Gee.
Okay, fine that last one doesn’t count.
The point is. Open your face and insert a spoon. Because this action is happening.
As I currently sit here eating my feelings, watching all of the girliest of movies I have, Legends of the Fall, Sleepless in Seattle and The American President, and lusting after a life in Montana with Brad Pitt and his ravishingly long hair – I decided I needed to crank out some somewhat real food. By which I mean something other than the $3 truffles from Godiva I had to aid in my recover from Friday’s post-wedding registry completion shopping trip and spending more than I care to admit on a new winter jacket.
I say ‘recovery’ like it was some epic, muscle atrophying workout. Just one for my bank account in reality.
*Sidebar* – If anyone is interested, I will be starting a Feistaware Anonymous group after this registry completion shopping trip. Contact me for further info. Sunflower, turquoise and ivory dishes, oh my!
Ben, honey I hope you’re not reading this. Don’t ask how much the jacket was, okay? I have a long list of justifications for it, but you don’t really wanna hear ’em, so don’t ask. It’ll save us both a lot of time. I love you.
As this carousel comes around full circle – I’m a weepy hormonal mess. And I need real food. After shuffling my way through the store today and coming across a $7 jar of tapenade, I could only think to myself – A) crusty garlic bread needs to happen in my life. And 2) $7 for a jar of tapenade is far to ridiculous for mulched together artichokes and red peppers. – So says hypocrite that spent an egregious amount of moolah on a new jacket.
Into the cart went the crusty garlic bread and home we went, me and the bread, to do terrible things together. Like make tapenade.
Hormones, crusty garlic bread, teary movies with Presidents, Montana mountain men and long hair, and this? Spending another weekend away from Ben could be worse.